We Will Never Grow Old
by TheBloodWeBondIn
Summary: "Please Peter," Wendy's lips were trembling against her tears, "I don't want you to see me like this." "You found me at my lowest point," I said. "I want to do the same and make you happy." Realistic Peter Pan; Behind each great magical tale is harsh reality. He was in love with her but she was dying. Deprived from a childhood, Peter wants to give her what she had never gotten.
1. You Found Me at My Lowest Point

**Author's Note: This is my realistic version of Peter Pan. :) This is my favorite story as a child and still :D This is like a prologue chapter :D yes i like smiley faces lol**

* * *

Do you know what it's like to be by yourself? To never know what you're doing is right – to be alone? You complain what is being served on your plate while many people like me can't remember the last thing that was in our stomachs. You throw tantrums; constantly saying you hate your parents for not giving you something so petty and yet…..there are many children being either neglected or abused. You complain about your job while many would do anything for your position and are struggling in poverty. You take free education for granted, not knowing there are a million children that are in a dark cycle of ignorance. You want a bigger house, oblivious to thousands of invisible numbers of humans having no place to call a home.

No roof.

No warmth. No shelter.

That was me.

I've been living on the streets for years, stealing and doing dirty, shameful bargains just for food and clothes.

I am fourteen years old; been on the streets for seven years. I ran away when I was just a little boy. Both of my parents used to abuse me. They would throw me down the stairs or break my fingers. Lace me up with bruises and scars.

Lock me up in the closest to leave for days; leaving me without food. I would cry, begging for someone to free me from the closet until I was red from weeping and pass out from the dehydration.

They would return, laughing as they threw food at me.

I remember these memories since I was only three years old. By the time I was seven I ran away.

Been demented from years of being unloved, hurt.

I don't feel sorry for what I do anymore – robbing innocent people. You know why? Because people don't care for the people that are suffering. To them I'm just another random number to the statistics of unimportant homeless people. People like them treat you like goldfish. They think: _Oh it's okay, it was just a fish. We can get a new one._

I don't care if I hurt people. I have to do whatever I can to survive and keep the others alive. I take care of little lost boys I meet, all are younger than me – at the same state I was when I was just seven years old – young and innocent. I have to be brave one. I have to be the one that take cares of them – make them laugh – make them smile. So robbing people is nothing.

I'm too numb to feel.

It's late and it feels darker tonight. The little boys are gathering food in the dumpsters a few blocks down while I'm murking in the rich streets, looking for easy, vulnerable targets.

My eyes dropped, finding a girl walking.

She was a beautiful girl with gentle blue eyes, her soft, creamy skin; sweet smiling face that was framed by long loose auburn curls. She wore a white button up shirt, and a plaid blue skirt that hit her knees, and white slippers. She was in between her mother and father, her loving parents patting her head with affection. I swallowed hard from jealousy. What did it feel like to be loved? I couldn't hurt her. Her mother was carrying a huge purse – a nice one – the kind with a gold clasp and wore a nice fur coat. The little girl was so innocent – I couldn't rob her family. She had nice looking parents and kind faced younger brothers. I can't scar her the way I was. She was probably a year or two younger than me….I can't hurt her.

I shook the awful thoughts from my head, focusing on my main priority; to find an easy target. I need money. I need money so I can afford to take Slightly to the hospital. I hated doing this. I really do but you have to do to survive – and keep the ones you love too. I shivered from the darkness of the night, slowly stalking behind several feet from the picture perfect family; my breathing dead.

My eyes widen, seeing huge man appearing before them, holding out a sharp knife. The mother screamed, watching her husband being held in a hold by the man. The man smiled, laughing crookedly.

Something in me snapped. I ran towards them, instinctively stabbing the man with my knife. The perfect family gasped. I dropped my knife, my hand trembling for what I've done. I stared at my hands – my tainted hands. I killed a man. I never killed a man before. I had a knife as a prop so the people would give in easily – but I never used it to kill anyone before.

I looked up at them, seeing the girl's frightened blue eyes look at me. I swallowed hard, shaking my head, feeling the adrenaline mask my body. I started to breathe heavily watching her taking a step closer to me.

I ran in a flash.

Ignoring the screams from the adults that tried to get me to stay.

I just ran.

I turned my head back, sawing them go inside a house.

My head bobbed, clenching from the vision of blood. I killed a man. I had to run. Run.

Ran before anyone could get me.

* * *

I stopped myself from the track of running towards nowhere. I stopped, heaving, shutting my eyes. I killed a man. There was nothing I could do to bring him back. I felt tears stung my face. I never been so confused before. Was it right?

I only did it to protect them. But what if the man was just like me? Poor and out in the streets – desperate for money. What if the knife was just a prop as well?...

I was going to hell.

I swallowed hard, collapsing on the empty streets. I stared at night sky – the millions of milky, bright stars scattered in the ebony blackness of the night. I wiped the tears from my eyes, slowly lifting my right hand in the air. I closed on eyes, my hand trailing – searching for a star I loved. I covered the other stars, only seeing that second star to the right.

A trembling smile curved on my face through my tears. I always looked at the star for guidance when there was no one. I watched the shooting stars for hours until my heart relaxed. I jumped up, slowly walking back to the place I ran away from.

The family must be asleep by now so I'm safe.

I just want to see what I've done – to give respect to the man.

I stood several steps from the place where I killed him. His body was gone; police must have taken him for investment but they didn't take the evidence – the blood that soaked the ground. I inhaled slowly, going on my knees. I hugged my knees, covering my face. I killed a man that was just like me and all the others suffering.

"I'm sorry," I heaved, shaking my head. "I'm so sorry."

I never felt so terrified before in years.

So small.

"You were just protecting me and my family."

I looked up, finding the girl with the gentle blue eyes in front of me, standing with a sweet smile. I stood up, brushing off the dirt from my dirty rags. She was wearing a white cotton nightgown underneath her thick gray coat with a black fur trim.

"I killed him," my voice was soft. I wasn't sure how to act in front of a girl.

She bit her lip, her eyes flickering at me with warmth. "He was a bad man. He almost hurt my father. You killed him out of defense," she forced an uneasy smile. "It was really brave of you." I shook, watching her bow down. "My name is Wendy Darling. And yours?"

"Peter," I grinned, trying to make her shocked face from tonight look livelier. I bowed down in a meaningful manner but it came out obnoxious, making her giggle. I took her offered hand, smirking. "Pan."

* * *

**please review :D**

**I hope you guys like this  
**


	2. Tell Me A Story To Forget My Pain

**Author's Note: eeee the feedback for this story is so low. D:**

* * *

Every night I would go to her house, climb into her room where she was waiting for me. We had to be quiet for her brothers and dog were fast asleep. Wendy would bring me scraps of food she managed to save for me to bring to the little boys. We would talk and Wendy told the most wonderful stories. Each night I would return to here her continue, wanting more.

She was only twelve years old yet she reminded me of a good mother. She was nurturing, kind, and understanding. She had a face that made you feel safe, making everything clearer.

"How old are you Peter?" she asked, pursing her pink lips. Her eyes looked up straight at me to be respectful, but I can tell she wanted to look at the floor for she was blushing terribly.

"Fourteen, I suppose," I answered, ripping off a chunk of white bread she had gave to me.

"Do you go to school?"

"No."

Her eyes widened, surprised. She looked like I cursed at her. I wouldn't though. I respected her too much. "What do your parents say about that?"

"I have no parents," I said bitterly.

"I'm sorry," her face was sincere with warmth. I see her whole face twisting, shattering by the words.

"I did but I ran away when I was little." I can feel my body growing numb - at the memories - the pain of fearing when my mother and father came. "They used to hurt me for as long as I remember until I was seven and I ran away. Out the window."

"It must be h-horrible..." she said slowly. "To be alone."

"I'm not alone though." I shrugged. I didn't want sympathy from anyone. Especially from her. She's done so much for me - bring food - give whatever money she had from her pocket - mended my rags so they would be a little presentable. "I'm leader of lost little boys. They all have no family and are out in the streets with me." I swallowed hard. "And I have a friend - her name is Tina but I call her Tink on the fact that she works in a pots and pans factory. She's older than me by a year and she lives in a boarding house with all the workers. She works really hard to afford a doctor for one of my boys."

"She sounds lovely."

"She is, she's like a big sister to me actually. She found me when I ran away and she protects me. We've known each other since I was seven years old. She's really mischievous though. We do many tricks and games to get money from people." I smiled deviously. "Or steal."

Wendy swallowed. "That doesn't sound nice though."

I shrugged. Wendy had no right to judge me. She had everything every little child wanted. "Tink isn't all that bad. Yeah she has a really bad temper but she's just tough because she's looking out for us. She's a really good dancer, dances like an angel. She wants to save up to go to a dance academy." I go on, telling her my life without her, fabricating it to a somewhat lighter version of the truth. I told her I and the others lived in the streets of Never. Never Street is a place where all the homeless people stayed. Never Street was a poor area, a horrible, dangerous place for an outsider. Some of the homeless people I'm friends with but the others I wasn't.

"Peter, can you promise me something?" her voice is small. She's sewing one of the shoes that her father had thrown out and the ones that her brothers no longer fit. She was going to give them to me. It made me adore her even more.

She was such a sweet person.

I didn't know rich people like her existed.

I thought all of them just cared for themselves and the finer things but here was Wendy, a graceful girl with a humble life.

"What is it milady?" I try to be someone she deserved. It saddened me, that I could never have her. We were from different classes and she deserved better.

"One day can you take me to where you live? I want to meet your friends."

I quickly shook my head. "It's out of the question. It's far too dangerous for you."

She bit her lip, pausing before closing the seam. "Please?" she pleaded, firmly. She was relaxed, not losing her temper. "I would really love to."

I bit my lip, crossing my arms. She could get hurt and I didn't want her to know the reality of it all. I told her it wasn't that bad and that it was fun living on your own with the pleasure of deciding what to do. People there were desperate, would easily hurt her for money - for survival.

I wouldn't forgive myself is she got hurt.

"Please?" she grabbed me by the arm. I was unable to pull away from her soft, calming blue eyes.

"Fine," I sighed, caving in.

Her face quickly brightened. "Promise?"

"I promise."

* * *

"Where have you been boy?" Tink slapped me.

"Yeah!" the boys all said in harmony.

It was late at night. I hadn't realized that I spent that long with Wendy.

"A kind girl gave me these," I showed the boys a bag of shoes. Even though they were worn out, Wendy cleaned and fixed them as if they were good as new.

The boys awed, going on the grounds of the dirty floor, trying on each shoes to see which one fit. We all stayed in an abandoned warehouse. The warehouse smelled and there were many rats and roaches but it was better than to sleep on the streets like the others.

"Who?" Tink twists her nose suspiciously.

"A very kind girl," I repeated, rolling my eyes. Tink hated any girl around me that wasn't her. She's a big sister like I said and she likes to watch over me.

"The same girl that said that gave you blankets?" Tootles asks.

I nod.

"I want to meet her," all the boys quickly said with awe. They were so easily thankful for things. They wanted to show gratitude.

I shook my head. "Sorry, but it would be too dangerous bringing her in a place like this."

They pouted while Tink smirked with relief.

* * *

The next night I come earlier than usual, around ten to see her.

All I've been thinking for the past few weeks was her. How she smiles and laughs - how her eyes sparkle. But I knew I could never have her. It was the unwritten rule in society in London. I'm not worthy enough. I climb up to her room, waiting for silence to enter.

"WENDY!" I hear her father scream. "It's time for you to grow up! Stop filling the boys with foolish nonsense!"

"Father," she keeps herself levelheaded. She's smart not to talk back to her father. "All I'm doing is just telling them bedtime stories."

He scoffs, laughing coldly. "Your marks have been dropping while you spend your time _wasting _about coming up absurd stories about a flying boy and a fairy. You have to stop having your heads in the clouds! It's about time you grow up!"

Wendy snapped. "All my life I've been growing up! I always doing what you tell me - being a good girl - watching my brothers. Not living!" she screeched. My skin tightens, shocked to her erratic behavior. This was very Un-Wendy like of her. "I've been responsible and have to be a third parent to my brothers and taking pointless classes -

"Not another word," he threatened. "Or I'll send you off to boarding school."

"No!" I could hear her tightening her dainty fists.

There was a loud sound.

I gasped, slowly peeking in the window.

Her father slapped her.

Slapped her on her pretty face.

Her eye was getting quickly black, bruising from the action. Wendy was on the ground, covering her face, covering her tears.

Her brothers are still, on their beds, pale from what had happened. I never seen a man hit a girl before. It was the worst sight I ever saw and I killed a man before. Hitting a girl was shameful. Unforgivable.

"It's time for you to grow up," her father said firmly, leaving the room - slamming the door.

Her parents left in the car. Probably to go to some show for they were all dressed up.

The children stayed in the room with their nurse dog.

"Are you okay Wendy?" Michael, the youngest boy ran to her first. He comforted her, hugging his older sister. He was frightened from what had happened.

John helped her up.

Wendy quickly wiped her tears, a smile trembling on her face. "I'm fine," she forces herself to carry on.

"What's going to happen?" Michael jumps into her arms, hugging her tightly. "I don't want you to go."

"Whatever happens," she looked at the both of them. She was being brave but I know she was scared. "Everything's going to be alright," she hushed them, using a soft sing song voice she used when telling her wonderful stories. She puts her brothers to bed. She sits on the ground, next to her dog Nana, facing them. "Now who wants to hear a story?" she pats her dog's head with care.

"I do!" the boys said eagerly, quickly forgetting what had happened.

"What about?" she chuckled.

"About Peter Pan. The flying boy," John says. "The part were you left off about him discovering the Lost Boys."

Wendy smiled. "You see Peter Pan takes care of little boys that are suffering. He doesn't want anyone to suffer the same pain he had when he was just a baby. When the parents aren't looking, he takes them out of their cribs and prams and steals them away."

"To where?" the boys both asked, listening intently. I smiled, listening as well.

"To a place called Neverland."

"Neverland? What is that?" Michael asks.

"It's a place the good souls go that have bad lives. Neverland is place where there is not a care in the world. People don't work or go to school. They just spend their days having fun - have amazing adventures," she cooed. "Peter Pan is the leader there, fighting off villians such as Captain Hook."

"You mean the bad man from my dreams?" Michael grins.

I laugh to myself. Wendy told me Michael has nightmares of a tall, pale menacing man with a hook for a hand that comes lurking to kill children.

"Mhmm," she tries to hide her laughter. "Neverland is a wonderful place but it's dangerous there. There's pirates and mermaids and Indians and fairies."

"It's sounds like a scary place," John gasped.

"It can be but if you have Peter Pan as your leader it isn't. Neverland is a wonderful place. It's a place of fun and time is still there. No one grows old in Neverland."

"Can you take us?" both of the boys asked, pleading.

She chuckles to herself. "One day Peter Pan will take us to Neverland."

"You think so?" John asks.

"Yes. He takes all the sad, lonely children there."


	3. Give Me a Kiss to Heal the Wound

I tucked in Michael and John to bed.

The boys were delighted to see me. I couldn't control myself after hearing Wendy's story about me. I jumped in into the room when she was about to end her story for the night at: **_'And Tinkerbell sobbed. She only found Peter's hat. He was dead. Captain Hook had defeated him - threw the poor hero into the water to be devoured by a huge, menacing crocodile - Tinkerbell turned around, hearing a sound of crowing._**' I quickly leaped inside the room, in a heroic pose, screaming a loud crow, announcing that I was Peter Pan.

The boys' eyes widened with stars. They believed me to be a flying boy - such innocent boys.

We played - sword fights and jumping on the bed - until they collapsed from exhaustion. I couldn't help but to grin. Such silly boys. Like birds.

"What going to happen to you Wendy?" I asked. I didn't want her to go to a boarding school. I wanted things to stay the way they were.

She shrugged. "If I'm lucky, maybe father might change his mind."

I bit my lip, my hand tracing on the mark on her face. Her black eye...I wished I had. She didn't deserve to be hit.

"You said your father was a loving man," I said coldly.

"He is," she defended. "He's very strict and things have to go his own way."

"To me, he's the real Captain Hook! He has you wrapped around his finger!" I sniped. I looked into her eyes, taking a step closer to her. I could hear her heart fluttering while I was shaking. I never been this close to a girl before. Her eyes are still warm even though one is black.

"Peter..." she said slowly, her cheeks turning bright pink.

"Yes?"

"Can I...c-can I...give you...a kiss?" she blushed, turning away.

I turned red, managing to nod. "I never got a kiss before. What is that?" I asked, pretending to be ignorant. Wendy chuckles. She knows I'm pretending...I think. I was shocked. I didn't expect a person like Wendy to make a first move and be so bold. I stood there, waiting for her to go on her toes to kiss me.

"Can you close your eyes?" she pleaded, trying to cover her face with her hair. "So it would be less awkward."

I obeyed. It was really awkward. I waited, feeling my lips pucker feebly, waiting for her to kiss me.

She grabbed my hand, putting something in it.

My eyes opened. She gave me a kiss alright...a chocolate kiss that is. I looked at her, jokingly scolding her as I laughed.

She smiled deviouslly. "That's what you get for waking up my brothers!" she glowed with pride from her prank. I was quite disappointed. I was expecting a kiss from her. She gently punches me in the arm.

"Why Wendy!" I mockingly gasp. "I thought you were a lady!"

"I'm not a lady! I'm like Red Handed Jill."

I laughed to a point my belly hurts. Red Handed Jill was a person from Wendy's stories that she created. Red Handed Jill was a notorious woman known for getting away with countless murders and gets away with by giving kisses to the judges and police. "Well Wendy, thank you for the kiss," I go along with her little game, using an adult's voice when they were going along with a child's wild imagination. I put the 'kiss' in my pocket, patting it for over exaggerated matters. I looked at her cockily. "May I repay you with a kiss as well?"

She smirks, bowing down, gathering some of her nightgown as she curtsied. "You may, good sir."

"Well in Neverland language; 'thimble' means kiss." I did some improv. "May I give you thimble so you can wear it around your neck proudly?"

She nods, laughing. She holds out her hand out flatly, waiting.

I give her a thimble, curling her fingers in to grasp it securely. As I do that, I stole a kiss at her neck.

"You're not a gentlemen," she giggled, nudging me away from her playfully. Wendy is a deep scarlet, shocked that I kissed her.

Well I told her I was going to kiss her. She should have saw it coming.

"Did that make you feel better?" I asked, getting serious. I hope I cheered her up. That her smiles and laughter isn't a display. I really wanted to take care of her but Wendy wasn't the type of girl. She was independent with grace and poise.

Tink acts like she's independent and strong but in reality she's not. Tink is deeply attached to me to a point it's suffocating and unhealthy. Tink cries sometimes. I know because Tootles tells me all the things she does when I'm not around. She only cries when she misses me. I think I should temporarily stop visiting the Darlings to spend some time with Tink. It would be a good thing for the Darlings too, to figure out their problems for themselves.

"Yes," she says truthfully. "So...you learn that I tell them stories about you," she starts to walk around, blushing again.

I smiled cockily. "I think it's cute and I love hearing stories about me!" I added. I go into a heroic pose to make her laugh. "Peter Pan! The Boy that never grows up!"

I like the sound of it.

"Yes," she plays with me in our game of sarcastic make believe. "He goes off having adventures and never grows old while the rest of the world deals with the pain of responsibility and wait until we are old and gray. Waiting for the merciful Grimm Reaper to take us away."

"Such a dark girl," I teased.

She laughs. "I know," she says sarcastically. I teased Tink the way I teased Wendy, Tink would be mad. Tink's a sensitive person - someone that's small and easily hurt. "Must be wonderful not to grow old."

"It is," I grinned. "But it's quite lonely but no matter how much things change, I'll always have your kiss."

* * *

**Author's Note: a quick, short chapter. I know it's really fluffy. I wanted some fluff before updating a really dark, sad chapter. **

**FYI this takes place in the early 1900's. 1914 to be exact.  
**

**chocolate kisses (hersheys) were invented in 1907.  
**

**My own spin on the whole thimbles and kisses X)  
**


	4. I'll Take You to Never Street

**Author's Note:holy holy holy crap. I'm so sorry :(**

**Okay explanation, it was a late night and I was tired and uploaded the wrong doc :/ the doc you guys read was something I wrote when I had a writer's block. I didn't notice it until I looked at the reviews tonight. so here's the meant to be chapter. :)**

* * *

I think I love her.

But I can never tell her that.

I can never tell anyone that actually. I tell Tink it's because Wendy's a mother figure. Tink sees through it and she wonders why I like someone two years younger than me. Wendy's age never bothered me though. I loved everything about her.

I continued to go to her room, claiming that I was just there for stories instead of the truth that I just wanted to be around her and her brothers.

Their father had seemed to forgotten about making her move to another room and the best part was that Slightly was up and healthy. I never been so happy before in my life. For once there was some stability in my life - the feeling of safeness and security...it was blissful - it was like I was flying - soaring in the cool, crisp air amongst the sparkling stars. I began to laugh more with her - real laughter instead of false feelings to be strong for the boys. For once in my life I was happy with my life - myself - my horrible memories.

If I didn't have bad parents I wouldn't have met Wendy.

I rather spend my days suffering than to never know Wendy or the boys or Tink. Special people in your life makes you remember that there had to be bad in the world. That there had to be suffering so you know what happiness and compassion was.

* * *

I decided to find food the next day so I can see the Darling family for once during the day. I always see them late at night. I want to know more of them during the day - the Day Darlings seem to me like a different breed of people. "Where's Wendy?" I asked the boys, looking around the room. The boys were still in their school clothes, doing their homework.

They looked up from their books and went to me.

"Where's Wendy?" I asked, unable to hide my eagerness.

They went pale. I looked at them, noticing that their eyes were swollen and red. Michael clutched on to John's hand. My heart begins to beat frantically and I feel all the pressure rushing in my head.

"Where's Wendy?!" I demanded. Why wasn't she here? Was she hurt? "WHERE IS SHE?! TELL ME!"

John fixed his glasses. "Today father sent her to boarding school."

"Boarding school?" I asked.

"Yes," John says in an orderly manner. "Father decided she's going to attend until she is eighteen in America -since that night..." he stopped himself.

All of us knew the night. We didn't need to be reminded when their father hit her.

I will never like their father because of that. NEVER.

"Boarding school?" I gasped. I wouldn't get to see her again for years."When did she leave?"

"We dropped her off thirty minutes ago."

"Where? A ship?"

Before John could answer, I jumped out of the window and ran.

I kept running. Running to the ships area. Maybe I still have time.

Maybe I still have time to get her.

She wouldn't be happy there - being restricted and away from her family. She would be miserable and lonely - I don't want her to be like that. She didn't deserve any of this - to be controlled by society and standards. I had to take her away.

* * *

"Wendy! Wendy!" I screamed, looking for her.

I sneaked onto the boat to America, running around - screaming out her name.

I stopped in my tracks, seeing a door open. "Peter?" she slowly goes out, her face filled with happiness. She runs to hug me.

I scooped her in my arms, hugging her tightly.

She pulls away. "What are you doing here?!"

"Saving you," I answered. "Wendy, run away with me."

"Run...away with you?" she looks at me strangely.

"Yes," I meant it. I wanted her to always be happy and maybe I can give that to her. "Please. Run away with me. You'll live in Never Street with me and the others."

There was a long pause.

"Only if my brothers can come along."

I smiled. We jumped off of the boat and took John and Michael before making our way towards our new home.

Wendy and her brothers were welcomed in a second by the boys. Well Tink didn't warm up to Wendy. Tink wasn't used to having another girl in our home. Wendy became the boys' new mother figure. She got them to do things I could never do. Like have them in sleeping early.

"Why did you tell me you were being sent to boarding school?" I asked, swallowing hard. Everyone was asleep except just the two of us. Why didn't she tell me?

She turned pale. "I-I...I didn't have the heart to tell you, Peter." She looks at me with saddened eyes. "I didn't want to hurt you."

"But you did." I glared at her. "Did you think I would be less hurt finding you're gone out of the blue?" I said sarcastically, biting each word out.

"I'm sorry," she grabs my hand. "I really am." Her eyes are tearing.

I put my arms around her, forgetting all my anger I had. "It's okay. Just don't keep any more secrets from me."

"I won't, I promise." Her eyes shifted to the dirtied ground. "You...Do...you think my parents miss me?"

"I -

"I know I'm not a perfect daughter," she pulls away from me, her hands in her hair. "I know I can never please them - that I'm a mistake in their eyes - but I wonder...if they miss me."

"Wendy," I touched her shoulder. I wanted to tell her to stop thinking about her parents - even though she and her brothers had just ran away. It makes the pain lessen. "Your father hit you. A man that hits their own children doesn't love them." Flashes. Flashes of all the times my parents abusing me - beating me down until there was a pool of blood - until I could no longer cry. I shuddered from the memory. "We are your new family." I point at all the sleeping boys and Tink that were on the floor.

She sighs, forcing an uneven smile. "I guess you're right."

* * *

Once Wendy fell asleep, I made way towards the Darling's home to retrieve Wendy and her brothers some spare clothes. I climbed to their room, pausing before entering. I wanted to make sure the room was empty. Nana was on the floor, her eyes dropped down, moaning.

I swallowed hard. Nana missed them. I shake the feelings. Nana's just a dog. She will forget the next day. My blood freezes. I hear crying. I climbed towards the only lit room. It must be their parents' room. I peered in, swallowing hard. Mrs. Darling was on the bed crying, staring at photographs while Mr. Darling was on the phone, his eyes swollen.

He was crying earlier.

I swallowed. I didn't know that people that hit their children could love - to have compassion.

They missed their children.

I watched them. They were too wrapped in their grief and depression to notice a boy peering in the window. Mr. Darling is screaming at the phone, going hysteric.

"Have you found them?!" he asks with hope. His face fell. "Oh...I understand. I can't expect them to be back on the day they disappeared." Mr. Darling placed the phone down, staring at nothing. He's consumed with guilt - he's shaking, his eyes burning from his tears.

"It's all my fault Mary," he mutters.

Mrs. Darling looks up at him, shaking her head. "No, it isn't."

He turns to look at her. "It is!" he exclaims. "I was too hard on her and I _hit_ her, Mary. I never hit her before. I never hit my children before- and she's only a child still - and I sent her away. And because of that, my two other children ran away."

There was a long pause.

"Tell me, Mary," he looks at her. "Why would the children love me? Why would they want to live in this house with someone like me?" His mouth is twitching, his hands wiping his tears. "They could be hurt for all I know! The world's a cruel place Mary. What if they're hurt?"

She goes to him, hugging him. "They know that you love them, George. They'll come back," she forces an uneasy smile.

He pushes her slightly and goes on his knees, crawling into Nana's doghouse. "I will stay in this doghouse until they'll come back. I'll be here still even if they never return."

I pulled away and went to the children's old room and took spare clothes and a few reminders of home - like Michael's teddy bear. I jumped down and walked towards Never Street. I can't tell them. I can't tell them on what I saw and heard.

They would go back to their home and leave me.

I can't imagine them out of my life.

It was better this way.

* * *

**Author's Note: OKAY ANOTHER SORRY FOR YOU GUYS :( I'm sorry for that big mistake and I'll be careful next time :)**


	5. an

A/N:

You guys may be wondering why it says completed when it's not.

Well...it's really difficult for me to talk about my personal life but...three weeks ago, I have been diagnosed with brain cancer. I will not say which type but I tried my best to finish all the stories and complete them before going with my treatment but I can't. There are other factors and I lost interest from this week and to know it is least likely for me to recover.

I'm very sorry but this story (and all of my others) won't be finished. I made some chapters but I feel it is not good enough since this month I've been rushing so they won't be out in the public.

Next week I'll be too busy with packing to go live at a center for my treatment that I would be unable to post anything.

I'm really sorry it has to be this way but I doubt I would survive but all my stories will be left indefinite and decided to stop unmoderating my sites.

I'm very sorry :(


End file.
